Ravensblood Forest brihadaranyaka

set this morning

once upon a time, hariji had uttered words that had haunted him since.

in time, child.

he'd asked of his father, then, and had been left wondering if the lord would reveal something—some trace of his sire, if not the man entirely.

but aditya's father was long dead, surely. nothing had come of it.

"do you know who my father is? does he live?"

he strolled quickly through the blood-spattered trees, disturbed. shadows all around, as if he were being watched. he kept from the borders of morningsong now rather than remaining within them, and it was this restlessness that spurred him on, on—

"does he live?"

in time, child.

adi stopped short, heart hammering in his chest.

"does he live?"

within me, he murmured, a sense of despair dawning upon him.

he saw it then: petyr entangled with rekha, only to flee when her belly grew, never to be seen again. a coward, not worth the seed he'd sown.

me, aditya echoed.

it had taken dozens of seasons, but he finally understood. 

hariji's promise was not the revelation of his father—but the prediction of his future.

shuddering, he pushed past the last of the brush in this garish forest and stepped into the light, the crashing waves just barely concealed by the last of the highlands.